


Cocoa

by Zhie



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bunniverse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 01:47:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9100972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zhie/pseuds/Zhie
Summary: Fingon finds unusually large mugs, and logically, makes cocoa.  Elven banter.  That's all, folks.  Total fluff.  Including what's on top of the cocoa.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I was cleaning and found a word prompt from several NaNoWriMos ago. The word is 'cocoa'. So this happened in 42 minutes. Enjoy.

“I know that chocolate is not one of your favorite things, but I made you something.” Fingon placed a large mug down beside Erestor’s arm. He held a second for himself, which he held in both hands. 

“What is it?” asked Erestor. There was a massive swirl of cream floating on the top of the drink and melted chocolate zigzagged across the top of that.

“Just cocoa. My own recipe.” Fingon perched on one of the empty tables in the library. “It was cold, and I know how drafty this room can be.”

Erestor picked up the mug and tried the beverage. He had to use both hands on account of the weight of the mug and the tiny and seemingly irrelevant handle attached to it. “I am still in awe of those who can manage the perfect temperature for heated food.”

“Do you like it?”

“It is nice. Not too sweet.” He took another sip before he set it down and wiped the froth from his upper lip. “I went through a sort of phase when we first came back to Valinor where I drank - and ate - a lot of very sweet things. We had honey in Rivendell, but we exported a lot of it, and sugar was far scarcer there than it is here. I think I matured or something over the last few years.”

“I went an entire summer eating nothing but oatmeal, cherries, and dried fruit. Completely by choice. We adopt strange habits at times, but I think it may be something internal,” theorized Fingon. “I think there is more at work in our bodies than we know, and those cravings can come from the need of a particular type of nourishment.”

“Interesting idea.” Erestor picked up the mug again, and after he drank, he laughed. “I must look ridiculous. Where did you even find these mugs? They are huge. I feel like a child drinking from this.”

“I have been going through the items stored in the basement. There were some things I have given away, but these seemed too precious not to keep.” Fingon lifted his own mug and added, “Anyhow, we are in the Cottage of Lost Play - I see no reason we cannot enjoy youthful moments here.”

Erestor tilted his mug so that he could lick the fluff that covered his beverage. “I like what you put on top,” he said.

Fingon drew a finger through the cream on the top of his mug and leaned closer, the dollop on his finger near to Erestor’s lips. Erestor, still holding his mug, leaned in and opened his mouth. He sucked the sweetness from Fingon’s finger and then sat back in his chair. “Was this your intention all along? To come and distract me from my work?”

“I built a fire down in the great room for us, and I have a kettle of milk waiting in case you wanted another drink,” offered Fingon. “There may also be a tray with bread and jam and cheese, and a pile of throws on the floor by the hearth.”

“I am never going to get any work done this winter,” bemoaned Erestor, but it was with a playful tone that he spoke as he wiped the ink from his nibs and put his writing set away. 

Fingon aided by putting away the books and extinguishing candles. “Every deadline you have is one you set for yourself. What difference does it make if you finish these translations this winter or next or the one following that? Is anyone paying you for these? Will there be dire consequences if it takes a year or two or five for them to be available in Sindarin?”

“No,” conceded Erestor.

“No, indeed,” agreed Fingon. “So come and sit with me by the fire before your cocoa gets cold. I promise you will find far more enjoyment there than you will up here in this stuffy old room - and that is my professional assessment,” he added. 

“Yes, your majesty,” replied Erestor.

Fingon rolled his eyes. “I meant as a fellow librarian and bibliophile, not as a former king,” he scolded.

“Of course, your majesty.” Erestor hid his grin behind puckered lips.

“When I said we should be more youthful, I did not mean to imply you should actually act like a child. You are so lucky I adore you, you ass,” Fingon informed him as he took the last of the candles from the room to lead the way back to the great room.


End file.
